Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
"Come in," the little girl says. "It's cold."
As if to prove it, she shivers.
"Car warm now."
"I know it is," I tell her, once again looking at her mother when she remains silent.
Claire smiles down at Larkin before plugging her house key into the lock. She steps aside as Larkin tugs me into the house, but I know better than to think that her silence and not demanding that I leave is her being glad that I'm here. She does her best not to get upset in front of Larkin, and this could easily be one of those times.
"Lights!" Larkin demands as she works on pulling some wild-haired dolls from a bin in the television stand.
"Bossy," Claire says as she steps inside, and closes the door.
"Lights, pwease?"
"Better," Claire says as she walks closer to the tree.
I should be a better man and not stare at her ass when she crouches low and reaches far behind the tree to plug in the lights.
"There's a clicker thing," I tell her once the tree is lit.
I swear the way she glances over her shoulder while on all fours makes me think some seriously dirty thoughts. Things I should be arrested for in mixed company.
"There," I tell her once she stands. "Leave the tree plugged in and click it off and on with your foot."
She tests it out, gaining a groan from Larkin every time the tree goes dark.
"I worry about a fire," she says.
"You've been plugging in and unplugging a very good surge protector," I explain. "It'll be fine. Promise."
Instead of stepping further into her space, I take a step back, looking down at Larkin who is content to brush the dolls' hair and look at the lights. I doubt all kids are as calm as she is though.
The best kind of fire shoots up my arm when Clarie wraps her hand around two of my fingers and pulls me to where we're standing more behind Larkin than in between her and the tree.
I smile down at her, unsure of how to react. She could easily be pulling me away so she can tell me to leave and never come back, but instead, she continues to tug me toward the tiny kitchen. Lifting up on the tips of her toes, she brushes a soft kiss on my lips before taking a step back.
She releases my hand as she opens cabinets, pulling things out and placing them on the counter.
She sighs when she opens the fridge.
“I forgot the milk,” she whispers.
“I can go get some,” I offer, wanting to help her in any way that I can.
“You don’t have to do that,” she says as she shifts to another cabinet.
“I don’t mind.”
“I’ll use this,” she says, holding up a clear container with what looks like flour in it.
"It's my emergency stash of dry milk."
"Dry milk?" I ask, my throat refusing to swallow down the gag forming.
"Don't look so disgusted," she says, smiling at me.
I swear it makes everything in my life better.
"Larkin won't drink it, but you can't even tell when it's cooked into something."
"What are you making with it?"
I can't think of a single thing that would be good with a powdered form of milk in it.
"Mac and cheese," she says, pointing to the box on the counter as if I'm blind.
It's not that I'm blind, it's that I have a hard time seeing anything else when she's near.
God, that sounded corny even in my head, but since I know it to be true, I simply stand a little taller.
"I want to thank you again for getting my car fixed."
"I didn't fix your car, Boone did."
"And it only cost fifty bucks?"
"Give or take," I tell her with a quick shrug.
She pulls in a sigh, releasing it slowly, but it doesn't have the edge of annoyance that's usually present when she gets frustrated with me or someone else.
"Barrett called me today and insisted I come by the office."
"Did he?" I say, wondering if she can hear the agitation in my voice.
I'll ring that jerk's neck if he told her about the trust he's supposed to be setting up.
"Seems you went and spoke to him about my credit card debt."
My heart stops, missing a handful of beats before it restarts, feeling a little clunky and not working right.
"Listen, what I told—"
"I want to say thank you."
I tilt my head a little to the side. Surely I didn't just hear what I think I heard.
"That look on your face, the shock that I'd thank you for something, kind of makes me feel like I've done nothing but be a jerk to you."
"There are times you're nice," I whisper, my eyes dropping to her lips.
I smile when she does.
"Are there?" she asks, her voice a sultry whisper. Or maybe I'm just imagining it. Either way, I like where this is going.